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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25126795">Serpent's Touch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlyProblematic/pseuds/HighlyProblematic'>HighlyProblematic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lorax (2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Real World, Author is poor and cannot afford a beta reader, Eventual Smut, M/M, Musician!Once-ler, Once-ler Renaissance, Oncest - Freeform, Pastor!Greed-ler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:47:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25126795</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlyProblematic/pseuds/HighlyProblematic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Once-ler is an unsuccesful  musician who moves to a small, rural town in hopes of starting anew. Desperately needing money, he takes up work as a gardener at the local church, unaware that he has caught the interest of the town´s young Pastor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Greed-ler/The Once-ler (The Lorax)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Slim fingers gently strummed at the strings of an old, wooden guitar, the folksy melody accompanied by a smooth voice. The musician stood by the fountain of the old town square, singing his heart out to the world, lightly swaying back and forth to the rhythm of the sound. It was a wonderful, sunny day, with only a few white, feathery clouds floating lazily in the sky. A lot of people had come out to enjoy the pleasant weather, families with children, couples, groups of friends of all ages. Some of them stopped by, listening to the young man´s music, a few of them threw a coin or even a crumpled bill into the open guitar case that had been laid out on the ground for that purpose. A mother with a little girl came close, and the music caught the child´s attention, making her stop in her tracks and listen, bouncing a little to the cheerful tune. After a while, she pulled on her mother´s sleeve, getting her to lean down to her so she could ask for something. The women, smiling, pulled out one dollar and handed it to her kid, who then walked up to the musician, looking up at him shyly as she put the money in the guitar case. The man smiled down at her, mouthing a hushed “thank you”, and tipped his hat as a sign of gratitude. She beamed back and returned to her mother, waving him goodbye as they left.</p><p>The musician played some more, but at some point, he felt his throat going sore, indicating that a break was much needed. Besides, his repertoire of songs for today was up. He had been singing since the early morning, and right now, it was way past noon. He squatted down, counting the money he had collected, noticing with a sigh that unfortunately, it wasn´t all that much. Enough to not go hungry for another few days, at least. He put the money in his wallet and returned the guitar inside the case that he then strapped onto his back before leaving his spot by the fountain.</p><p>Once-ler was what one would call a failed artist. One of those many people that had dreamed about making their passion their job and failed miserably. For him, it was music. It had always been music. He had started practicing playing the guitar and singing long before his clumsy little hands could even write letters correctly. A natural talent, some had said. And it was also one of the few things that he was genuinely good at. He had never been one for school, spending most of the lessons doodling and daydreaming rather than listening to his teachers, who then made angry calls to his mother about her son lacking discipline and motivation. She, in turn, looked down on him, calling him a lazy, useless good for nothing that wouldn´t get anywhere in life. This was among the many reasons why he had left home the day after his graduation at the tender age of only seventeen. His goal had been to make a name for himself in the music industry. Join a band, play at shows, go on tours and see the world, be free and independent, living off the thing he loved doing most. A romantic, and more importantly, incredibly naïve notion, as people that age tend to have. And the moment he was out of his house reality gave him a cruel wake up call.</p><p>It wasn´t like he´s never had any success at all. He´d been in a few bands, but all of them had been short-lived, splitting up over petty fights, members losing interest or simply not having the time for music anymore due to other responsibilities in life. He had been on stage, and he had collaborated with other artists on albums. But none of them ever received the critical acclaim that was needed to push him into the spotlight, only praised by small indie music websites and lesser known magazines that barely helped him draw attention to his work. No label ever wanted him. The music he put onto his own, private website sold poorly, or at least not well enough for him to be able to make a living with it. He doubted that more than about a hundred people even knew about him.</p><p>It was tiring. But the world at large did not care about his artistic struggles, because rent and food still needed to be paid for. So he did menial work, trying his hardest to stay afloat and not end up on the streets. It was always the same: he would move into a new town, apply for several jobs, all while recording music and trying to find a way to get himself out there while he wasn´t working. It would never go his way, and he would leave the place, disappointed, convincing himself that he´d have better luck next time. Rinse and repeat.</p><p> He had lost count on how many times he had done this now, how many places he´d been to. Always hoping that this time, surely, it would work out, only to have his hopes crushed and needing to start all over again. And it´s not like he was a teen with all the time in the world anymore, either. He was already pushing 23, and while still young, he already felt like an utter failure. He had absolutely nothing, no qualifications whatsoever, and no experience in work that was more than just serving food and doing dishes.</p><p>With a disgruntled look on his face Once-ler made his way to the next grocery store to buy however much the measly amount of money in his wallet would allow him. As he walked through the narrow streets, he noticed that this old town was really beautiful. It was a small place, full of old buildings and charming little shops. Pretty rural, too, with large, green fields sprawling in the distance. So much different than the big, crowded, noisy cities he had lived in before. Were it not for his situation being so incredibly dire he would have had enjoyed the atmosphere immensely.</p><p>While he estimated in silence how much money he had left to live- enough to last about one month if he continued eating nothing but stale sandwiches and drinking tap water as he did now- a voice suddenly rang through to him.</p><p>“Oh, hello! Good afternoon, Pastor Greed!”</p><p>The musician turned his head, noticing a somewhat humpbacked lady looking up to him with a friendly smile.</p><p>“Going for a little stroll? I decided to catch some fresh air, as well. The weather´s so lovely! Summer has truly come to this town.”</p><p>Once-ler came to a halt, furrowing his brows in confusion as he awkwardly stared at the women.</p><p>“I… I´m afraid you´re mistaking me for someone else, ma´am,” he finally replied after an uncomfortable pause.</p><p>The lady looked taken aback. She leaned towards the man´s face, getting uncomfortably close as she readjusted her glasses and narrowed her eyes to accurately study his features.</p><p>“My goodness!” she exclaimed, finally stepping away. “I am quite sorry, young man. These eyes don´t see as well as they used to. It´s just that you look <em>so</em> alike to our local Pastor. You´re not related to him, by any chance?”</p><p>Once-ler shook his head, replying that no, he had no Pastors in his family. At least none that he knew of. He thought that this was going to be the end of the conversation, but the women seemed to be in a chatty mood, walking alongside him as he continued his way.</p><p>“You´re not from here, aren´t you?”</p><p>“I am not. What gave it away?”</p><p>“The way you dress, your accent, your whole demeanor. Besides, this is a small nest we live in, and I´ve never seen you around before. You´re from the big city, aren´t you? What brought you to our small town?”</p><p>The man really wasn´t in a mood for talking, but he couldn´t bring himself to try and shake her off, so he gave her a short reply, hoping that she would leave him be after that. She didn´t.</p><p>“I see. Well, since you´re here, you might as well go on a little sight-seeing tour. There isn´t much, but I´d absolutely recommend our church. It may not be as grand and well-known as the many the other´s out there, but it is still quite nice to look at, it is! Besides, the sermons are always worth listening to. Pastor Greed, despite being so young, preaches incredibly well. Our old Pastor, his father- bless his soul- passed away due to illness, you see, and his son took his place. He is a very kind man, a virtuous man. It is so rare these days, young people following the path of faith…”</p><p>She went on and on about their religious community. The musician was too polite to tell her that he really didn´t care about religion and that going to church was the absolute last thing on his mind when he had to worry about himself not being able to pay for basic necessities soon. Only when they reached a crossroad did she finally come to a stop.</p><p>“Well, dearie, I have to go the other way. Have a nice stay in our town. God bless you!”</p><p>And she was gone, disappearing behind a corner. Once-ler let out an exasperated breath and finally acquired his small bag of groceries.</p><p> It was evening when he finally got home. He closed the door behind him, staring with a frown at the shoebox he called his new abode. It was a single, small, cramped room. An old wooden bed that squeaked horribly whenever he so much as touched it was on the left side, a kitchenette with a greasy stove, a sink and a tiny fridge on the right. There were no chairs, no nightstand and no closet, so he had to keep all of his belongings in the suitcase he had brought with him. Right next to the front door was the restroom, and for once the man was thankful for being so ridiculously skinny, because he had no idea how a normal person would be able to even move around in there, tiny as it was. Everything looked old, worn and dusty. A weird smell lingered around the room. It felt claustrophobic.</p><p>Such was his life now.</p><p>He had become used to living like this, though. And, to be fair, at least this town was quiet and the view outside the window was lovely.</p><p>He prepared a sad little meal, lying down on the bed as he ate, several of the mattresses´ springs pushing against his back uncomfortably. A quick glance at his music website he visited after turning on his ancient laptop revealed that barely anyone had interest in his creations. Some had thrown a bit of money at him, just as the people in the town square did, and there were a handful of encouraging comments. But that was hardly enough.</p><p>He looked away from the screen, gazing at the ceiling with an unfocused stare. Why in the world did everything go so wrong? Why did it have to end up like that? No money, no real job, no perspectives for the future. His mother had been right. He really <em>was</em> a useless good for nothing. Other people his age were getting degrees and working careers, and what did he have? An old guitar and a dirty room with spiders in every corner. Even they seemed to be mocking him with their many-eyed stares. Was this how it was going to be now, for the rest of his life? What was he to do if he had no luck with a job this time and ran out of money? He had always been lucky so far, but the possibility of ending up on the street always loomed over him. Sure, he could always go back to his mother, but just the thought of her snarling at him, giving him that derogatory glare and repeating ‘see? I told you so’ over and over made his skin crawl and his heart clench. God, he should have had just gone to college, or at least specialized in a music genre that was more popular and easier to capitalize on than psychedelic indie folk and ambient shoegaze.</p><p>But wallowing in existential dread and feeling sorry for himself wasn´t going to put food on the table. He needed work, and he needed it quick.</p><p> So the first thing Once-ler did after waking up and completing his morning routine was to find the nearest kiosk and purchase the local newspaper. The news themselves he had no interest in, flipping right to the page with the job advertisements. He took a red marker out of his bag, taking off its cap with his mouth and reading through the adverts, looking for something fitting. For many of the jobs he didn´t have the necessary qualifications, but there were a few menial ones that required no professional skill. He circled those. Then, a certain ad caught his eye:</p><p> </p><p>                                                                                                                    <strong><span class="u">GARDENER WANTED </span></strong></p><p>                                                                         <em>Looking for an experienced gardener to take care of our church´s garden.</em></p><p>
  <em>                                                                                                           Every Sunday, 12:00-15:00 </em>
</p><p>
  <em>                                                                                                           Contact for further details.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Below was an address, as well as a phone number. Once-ler´s eyes lit up and a small smile appeared on his lips. If there was one real field of work that he had any experience with, it was gardening. He had done gardening as a side job since he was a young teen. Never anything too fancy, but enough to hold the job. He had even considered doing it professionally, but loved music too much to give it up for that. Still, it had always been fun to him. He had a good hand for greenery of all sorts. And the payment was surprisingly good, too. Definitely higher than what one would usually expect from a job like that. He drew a big, noticeable circle around the ad, feeling some confidence returning to him. Maybe, maybe this time, he could do it. Maybe this town would be the one he´d manage to break the vicious cycle in. Swiftly he jumped off the bed, already dressed and ready to go.</p><p>                                                                                ---</p><p>Out of the eight jobs he had circled, four had rejected him on the phone, saying that they had already found someone else. The fifth one, an old farmer with ginger hair and a giant moustache just glanced at him once before erupting in roaring laughter.</p><p>“No offense, lad. But I need someone strong for that type of work. You look like you´d break in half from a slight breeze hitting ya.”</p><p>With his pride wounded- he surely wasn´t <em>that</em> fragile- he moved towards the next place on his list, now growing anxious. What if those jobs were already taken, too? In that case, he would have to either look for work that was out of town, or pack his bags and move again. He was in luck, though: he managed to get two of the other jobs, being hired on the spot. Granted, it was washing dishes and cleaning up at the local pet shelter, but it was better than having to starve. Now all that was left was a walk to church. He had tried calling several times, but since no one had picked up, he had decided that appearing in person would be the next best thing. Would he be talking with that Pastor Greed the old women had told him about? Greed… what an incredibly unfortunate last name for a Pastor to have. That´s like a doctor having ‘Pain’ as their last name. Maybe there were six other Pastors that were named after the remaining deadly sins, and bringing all of them together would awaken the Antichrist or something.</p><p>Once-ler giggled audibly at his own silly thoughts, causing several people to turn their heads and give him weird looks.</p><p>The church was less than a five-minute walk from his apartment. It was old, just like the town itself, steeple raising towards the clouds and throwing shade at those standing beneath it. The vines covering its ancient grey walls in some places as well as the colorful stained-glass windows gave it an almost mystic appearance. And the garden surrounding it, while being in a somewhat unkept state, gave those looking at the scenery a sense of calm and serenity. To be fair, Once-ler did not know the first thing about architecture, but that old lady had been right. It was rather nice to look at.</p><p>After standing in place and marveling at the beauty of the building before him, he collected himself, straightening out any folds in his clothes before walking towards the heavy wooden doors, pushing them open.</p><p>The musician peered inside, eyeing the interior. Colorful light gently shone through the stained-glass onto the marble floor and oaken pews, little particles of dust floating in the air. The smell of incense infiltrated his nostrils right away, and he felt a small chill running down his spine, for it was rather cool inside, compared to the hot summer air he had just felt on his skin. The church was devoid of people, hymnbooks lying orderly on the empty seats. Only a few moments later could the man make out a figure on the other side of the hall, standing beneath a wooden cross at the altar. Once-ler slowly made his way towards them, the soft red carpet muting his steps as he approached. Getting closer, he noticed that the figure was wearing a black clergy robe, and realized that this person was probably the one he was looking for. He came to a halt a few feet away from the altar, clearing his throat before calling out softly.</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>The figure lifted his head, taken out of whatever he had been doing. Once-ler watched as he turned around, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the other´s face.</p><p>He could definitely see now where that women had been coming from. The man in front of him was, at first glance, strikingly similar to himself, to the point where it made the musician recoil in surprise. A closer look, however, revealed that while he was quite the look-alike, there were still too many things that set them apart. The man looked a few years older than him and his facial features were much more mature, chiseled jaw and higher cheekbones where Once-ler still had baby fat, and a nose that was more straight rather than button-y. Broad shoulders, a lean chest and a perfectly straight posture, combined with an air of calm confidence that seemed to surround him. Emerald green eyes gazed at him attentively from underneath long lashes.</p><p>“Good day. What can I do for you?”</p><p>The low voice brought Once-ler back to reality, bashful expression appearing on his face as he realized that he´d been staring like an idiot, his mouth slightly open. He quickly recollected himself, asking carefully:</p><p>“Pardon me, are you Mr. Greed?”</p><p>The man cocked his head to the side a little, curious smile on his face.</p><p>“That I am. And you are?”</p><p>He told the clergyman his first and last name, and it caused Mr. Greed to snicker, moving his palm in front of his mouth to hide his grin.</p><p>“Excuse me, but could you repeat that again? Onslur? Did I get that right?”</p><p>The musician felt his face flush with embarrassment, his mouth forming a line.</p><p>“No, it´s <em>Once</em>-ler. With a hyphen in front of the ‘ler’. That´s important.”</p><p>Pastor Greed cleared his throat, regaining control over his expression.</p><p>“I apologize for my behavior. How very rude of me. It is just that your name is quite peculiar, I have never heard something like that before.”</p><p>“It´s fine,” Once-ler replied, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly and looking away. “I get that a lot. Like, a <em>lot, </em>so I´m used to it. My mama has a… very weird taste in names.”</p><p>“I see,” replied the Pastor after a moment of silence. “So, Once-ler, what can I help you with?”</p><p>The musician´s head shot up again as he remembered what he had come here for in the first place.</p><p>“It´s about your job advertisement. You´re looking for a gardener, correct? I´ve tried calling, but no one would pick up, so I decided to come here, I hope that´s ok. Well, are you still looking for someone?”</p><p>He fumbled with his fingers nervously, desperately hoping that no one else had taken up that job yet.</p><p>“Ah, yes, we still are,” the other replied with a thoughtful expression. “I don´t carry my phone around with me often, you see, sorry for that. I assume you have some experience with gardening?”</p><p>Once-ler smiled brightly, assuring the other that yes, he did.</p><p>“Do follow me, then. I´d like to show you around the garden, so you´ll know what work we´d expect you to do if you were to accept the job." </p><p>Overjoyed, the younger did as he was told, feeling like things were finally going his way for once. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once-ler followed the clergyman with small steps as he led him outside, and couldn´t stop his eyes from travelling over the body in front of him. He was somewhat bewildered, always having imagined Priests and Pastors as old guys with grey hair and wrinkly faces. But this one was young and, he had to admit, handsome. He carried himself with confidence, shoulders never slumping and lean back straightened. He could see that there was some muscle beneath those black robes. How did he get them, the musician wondered? There was no way someone like him would do any hard, physical work regularly, right?</p><p>His gaze wandered further down, taking in the slim waist, as well as the just slightly visible curve of his bottom, and he could not help but imagine what they would look like with the heavy fabric removed. Immediately, he reprimanded himself for allowing his imagination to go in that direction, trying to keep his eyes on anything but Pastor Greed. Despite not being a believer, he pondered: if lust was a sin, would impure thoughts about a man of god be considered double the sin, with double the punishment? His musings didn´t go much further as the other man opened the doors, leading them outside again.</p><p>“Well, Once-ler… may I call you by your first name?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Good. Here we are, you have already seen our garden on your way here. It´s humble, but we still take pride in it. Unfortunately, it´s quite overgrown, as you can see. Our old gardener has retired recently after doing this job for almost 40 years, and we couldn’t find a new one. But when it´s well kept, it is a joy to look at.”</p><p>They made their way through the narrow cobblestone paths. There were a variety of ornamental flowers, such as hydrangeas, lillies and pansies, a few rose bushes of different colors here and there. But also, rows of medicinal herbs, with little name plates that had been stuck into the ground, the names of the plants written on them in Latin. A few wooden benches were situated along the way, and water dabbled in a small marble fountain in the center of the garden. Save for that and the occasional chirping of birds, it was quiet. Peaceful. Once-ler found that he liked this place very, very much.</p><p>The clergyman led him to a little age-worn shed where all of the tools needed for gardening were kept as he explained to him what he was to do. All of it was what the younger had expected: mostly weeding, a lot of pruning, taking care of any pests that tried to harm the plants, making sure the place was in an orderly state, picking up anything that didn´t belong and other such things that were typical for the job.</p><p>“It´s three hours, every Sunday. Everything you need for the job will be provided to you. Should you get sick or not be able to come for whatever reason, please give us a call beforehand. There´s water if you get thirsty, just ask.”</p><p>Mr. Greed stopped for a moment, thinking whether there was anything else the other needed to know.</p><p>“That would be it. You probably know it yourself, but you should probably wear something you wouldn´t mind getting dirty. Any other questions?”</p><p>“Not at all,” said Once-ler, shaking his head. “all of these things I´ve done before, so none of the task should give me any trouble.”</p><p>“Splendid. Then I´ll be seeing you next week. Same place.”</p><p>The green-eyed man gave him a radiant smile that caught Once-ler off guard.</p><p>“No- I mean, yes. Of course, thank you!”</p><p>The musician stuttered a good-bye, hurrying off, and couldn´t help but fist pump victoriously the moment he was out of sight. He had not expected to be hired on the spot just like that. He may not have achieved anything special, but those jobs would make him enough money to pay for food and his tiny apartment, and just that was enough to make him happy.</p><p>His other two jobs turned out to be pretty much what he had expected: dirty and boring. At least he got some joy out of cleaning the pet shelter, being allowed to interact with some of the critters there. In the spare time he, as always, tried to work on his music, but came up with very little. Truth be told, he lacked both motivation and inspiration. He would have cut off verses, melodies and phrases going around in his head that sounded nice when he thought of them, but the second he took out his notebook, all was gone, and his pen would hover over a blank page, fingers strumming uselessly on his guitar for hours before giving up, no results in sight. He wondered what had happened. Back then, he had been able to fill pages over pages with lyrics, and while not all of them had been good, his creative flow had never seemed to stop. But now, after trying so hard for so long and not succeeding, what was once passion was slowly being replaced by crippling self-doubt that made him hate most everything he created. He began to think that maybe any musical “talent” he thought he had was nothing other than wishful thinking, that he <em>wanted</em> to be good at what he was doing rather than actually being good at it. The prospect of that sounded awful and he tried to push it to the back of his mind whenever it came up, but deep down, he was already trying to make peace with the notion that he might spend the rest of his life living paycheck to paycheck off of cheap jobs and never fulfill his artistic endeavors.</p><p>Plagued by these unpleasant thoughts he got through the week, and soon Sunday came around. He got ready to go, putting on whatever it was he first got his hands on. He didn´t have to worry about getting his nice clothes dirty because he, frankly, didn´t have any. Everything he owned was old and washed out, the last time he had worn something fancy was during his prom years ago, and even that had been handed down to him by one of his older brothers. Since he was practically always tight on money fancy clothes were the last of his priorities.</p><p>Once-ler exited his sad apartment and made his way to the church. This time, the town felt rather empty. The streets were, save for an old man feeding pigeons at the town square, near devoid of people. Most of them at home, enjoying the last day of the weekend with their families. It only made it even more noticeable how much different this place was from the big city the musician had come from, where there was always something going on even on the quietest of days. It didn´t take him long to reach his destination and he entered the garden right away, looking around. Neither Pastor Greed nor anyone else was to be seen. Two sparrows were splashing around in the fountain, turning their small heads when the new gardener came close and fluttering away with alerted chirps. The calm atmosphere did something to him, pushing back the negative thoughts eating away at him and lightening his mood up a little, enough to make a smile slightly.</p><p>He walked over to the shed in the back of the garden. It had once been white, but the paint began to chip away with age, revealing the wood underneath. The musician retrieved the tools he needed, putting on the green garden gloves that hung off a nail hammered into the wall. Whoever the last gardener had been must have had hands the size of tree stumps, being way too big for Once-ler. He thought about asking whether there were any smaller ones available, but decided against it, feeling like it would make a bad impression to ask for things on his first day of work. Instead, he quietly filled a large watering can with the garden hose and began working right away.</p><p>It didn´t take long for him to become completely lost in what he was doing.</p><p>Taking care of plants, to him, was very gratifying. It was a small life that was depended on one´s care and patience, similar to a child, and it felt just so rewarding seeing a little seed one had planted and shaped with one´s own hands blossom into something pretty and colorful.</p><p>He had been one of those children that would get upset whenever someone did as much as rip a leaf off of a tree. His older brothers, of course, used it to their advantage, stomping away at flowers and destroying any greenery in sight, taking joy in seeing their youngest get distressed about it to the point of tears, then calling him a wimpy crybaby for getting worked up over something so stupid.</p><p>He had often wondered what it was that made them dislike him so. Ever since he could remember his brothers, and most of the time even his mother, would ridicule anything he showed any amount of passion for. Whenever he tried to reach out to them, try to form some sort of connection, he would be met with derision and contempt, which caused him to isolate himself from the rest of his family and keep his interests secret in an attempt to protect himself from their sneers. Such, it had been easy for him to leave home the second he got the chance to. There had been nothing to leave behind.</p><p>The hours passed, the sun beamed down from the cloudless sky mercilessly, making Once-ler grateful for his worn, grey hat that protected him from a sunstroke. He could feel the sweat rolling off his back and forehead, his jeans dirty with soil and back sore, but he was too much into what he was doing to really mind, skillfully working on a rose bush, his lips pressed together in concentration. As such, he didn´t even notice the quiet steps that came his way, someone sitting down on the bench behind him, watching him with interest. Only when he turned around and his own eyes met emerald green ones did he jump slightly, acknowledging the other´s presence.</p><p>“Oh! Good afternoon,” the gardener proclaimed in surprise, straightening out his hat nervously.</p><p>“Good afternoon. Did I startle you? My apologies.”</p><p>The Pastor was sitting in a relaxed manner, his legs crossed. In his hands was a small, ornately painted teacup with a matching plate, both made of fine china. His face bore his usual expression, adorned with that small, polite smile that made one feel like he knew something one didn´t.</p><p>“No, sorry. I just didn´t expect anyone to come, is all.”</p><p>Once-ler watched as Mr. Greed brought the cup to his lips and took a sip slowly, clearly in no rush.</p><p>“I always come here around this time to have some tea,” he replied when he was done, stroking a loose strand of hair out of his face. “Only on pleasant days, of course. It´s somewhat of a ritual for me.”</p><p>He let his gaze wander, taking in the results of his employee´s efforts, and his smile grew just a little wider.</p><p>“That looks good so far. You weren´t lying about being experienced.”</p><p>The musician just laughed awkwardly, turning around to continue what he was doing.</p><p>“Thank you. But I´m not the quickest, unfortunately. It´ll be a while until I get everything looking presentable.”</p><p>“Good things take time.”</p><p>With that, silence returned to the garden again. Once-ler, satisfied with his work, went for the watering can, providing the plants with the water they needed. Their leaves rustled as they were hit by the stream, droplets glistening in the sun.</p><p>As he worked, he could feel the clergyman´s watching gaze on his back, and while it didn´t really bother him, he had the feeling of needing to say something else, that a conversation was supposed to happen at this point, but he didn´t know whether the other was fine with that or what to say, which made him somewhat tense. It was Mr. Greed, however, who spoke up again.</p><p>“Is gardening your main occupation? Or is it something you do on the side?”</p><p>Once-ler nodded while cutting away at a particularly stubborn bit of foliage.</p><p>“It´s a side job, yes. I´ve done it many times before, but I never ‘officially’ became a gardener.”</p><p>“Then what, if I may ask, is it that you do for a living?”</p><p>“I do music. Well… I try to, at least. It´s not working out particularly well.”</p><p>He let out a small laugh, getting on his knees to pull some weeds he hadn´t seen earlier.</p><p>“Were you perhaps the street artist playing music at the town square last week? I´ve overheard people talking about a young man in a funny hat with a really pleasant voice. We don´t have that here often.”</p><p><em>Funny? </em>Once-ler reached for his fedora, a little flustered, saying:</p><p>“Word really travels fast around here, huh?”</p><p>“It´s a small place. What kind of music do you specialize in?”</p><p> “You probably wouldn´t know about it,” replied the gardener, immediately reprimanding himself for sounding like some kind of pretentious hipster.</p><p>“No, I mean, it´s a little out there. Somewhat experimental? It´s not really something a lot of people listen to.”</p><p>The Pastor only shrugged a little.</p><p>“You´re right, I probably wouldn´t. I don´t really listen to modern music. Most of the songs that I know is what is chanted at mass.”</p><p>He drank the last bit of tea left in his cup before getting up, slowly walking towards the hydrangeas Once-ler had just worked on, coming to a halt at their side. He lowered his gaze, looking at the flowers. Slim fingers gently danced across the pink petals.</p><p>“It is so nice,” he murmured, “that we found someone to take care of these plants again. A lot of people like to come here, you know. Just sit down for an hour or two and look at the pretty flowers, often in the evening after a day of work. I was always taught not to get attached to the worldly, pretty things, since they are only temporary, that beauty can only be found in ones soul and the Grace of God. But to be fair, I think people need this in their lives, something that is just pleasant to look at from time to time and has no complexities behind it. Like nice piece of jewelry, or this garden… It distracts us from the not so wonderful things that we encounter during our time in this world.”</p><p>He leaned downwards, bringing his face close to the flowers. Once-ler watched him close his eyes, lashes fluttering as he softly inhaled their scent. Some strands of jet-black hair that had been neatly tucked behind his ear got loose again and fell onto his cheek, petals grazed his pale lips. The sun´s light made shades of leaves dance on his back. And it was so strange, how well he fit into this garden with all its vibrant colors despite being all clad in black, like a particularly extravagant detail in a painting which seemed out of place first, but needed to be there for the picture to be complete.</p><p>The faint rustling of leaves in the soft summer breeze faded into the background. A bumblebee flew heavily by the musician´s face, he didn´t notice, and neither did he pay attention to the fact that the watering can he was holding above a bush of flowers was long empty. Instead he watched, after what felt like an eternity, as the clergyman slowly got back up, turning to face him, a strange glint behind his narrowed eyes.</p><p>“Wouldn´t you agree?”</p><p>It took Once-ler a few seconds to register that he had been asked a question. He inhaled sharply, nodding a few times before finally managing to speak.</p><p>“Yes, of course.”</p><p>The other´s smile widened, and he eyed the gardener in a peculiar manner, stepping closer to him until he was only a few feet away. The musician froze, seeing the Pastor´s hand move towards him. Pale, soft fingers suddenly brushed against his scalp, just barely, and yet it was sending shivers down his spine, made his heart stop in its tracks. The touch lingered for a short while before Mr. Greed retrieved his hand, lightly stroking through Once-ler's hair as he did so.</p><p>“Had a leaf caught in there,” the green-eyed man said, innocently crossing his arms behind his back. “Oh, I´ve already had enough of a break. Wouldn´t be respectable for the only Pastor in town to slack off, hm? Have a pleasant week, Once-ler. We´ll see each other next Sunday, if the weather remains pleasant.”</p><p>He collected his china from the bench he had left it on, shooting his employee one last smile before following the cobblestone path out of Once-ler´s view.</p><p>The gardener needed a moment, taking a few slow breaths to calm down his quickly thumping heart. Only now did he notice the slight numbness in his fingers from clenching the handle of the old, rusty watering can so harshly. He looked around, feeling weirdly out of it, and cleaned up a little before grabbing all of the tools and placing them back into the shed. It was already past 3 PM. He was done for that day.</p><p>The musician went home, still feeling as if those deep green eyes were on him.</p><p>                                                                                                                                                         ---</p><p>The weather did remain pleasant, and the clergyman kept returning to the same spot in the garden every Sunday.</p><p>It didn´t mean anything at first, and they didn´t exchange much words other than greetings and good-byes. As time went by, though, the Pastor began initiating conversations, inquiring about his employee’s well-being and artistic progress, never getting too invasive, yet always seeming interested. Once-ler gladly replied, bit by bit letting him in on his life, visions and hopes for the future. He found that Mr. Greed was surprisingly easy to talk to, despite the prideful, slightly intimidating demeanor he always carried about. And with time, he found himself not just enjoying the other´s company, but actually looking forward to it. His body would always perk up on its own whenever he heard the familiar soft footsteps, the sound of fine china clinking together, the black Soutane appearing in the corner of his eye as he worked. Once-ler would turn around and he´d be there, smile hidden behind his teacup and attentive gaze focused on him. He´d speak, wish him a good afternoon in that low, smooth voice, and the musician’s heart would skip a beat or two before going wild in his chest. He could only hope that his outward appearance didn´t give it away.</p><p><em>“You´re getting attached,” </em>said a little voice in his head, and he had to admit that it was true. It was something that he always desperately tried to avoid. He couldn´t afford it, since he never stayed in one place too long ever since he´d started his vagabond lifestyle, and developing any sort of attachment towards someone was a bad idea, because eventually he would have to leave them behind, which brought about nothing but complications and sorrow for both sides. Thus, he got used to keeping to himself, letting names and faces come and go. And yet he couldn´t help but eagerly await those bright Sunday afternoons, working at a slower pace purposefully so he could stay just a little longer.</p><p>He had tried to reason, at first, that it was just him being happy about finally having a job he actually enjoyed doing for once, or that it was because he had been so lonely all this time. Both were true in a way, yet they didn´t explain the dreams he had about the clergyman´s pale hands dancing across his skin and his lips whispering sickly sweet nothings into his ear that would haunt him long after he was awake, or how he would desperately hope that the other´s slight, accidental touches and thoughtful glances really meant something and weren´t just wishful thinking.</p><p>It was stupid. He knew it was, and yet…</p><p>“How is the musical career coming along?  Since you´re still here and aren´t cruising the city in a limousine I assume you haven´t made it big in the scene yet.”</p><p>Once-ler smirked at the dry humor he had so come to enjoy, shaking his head as he attended some white roses.</p><p>“Please, I´d be happy if I made it <em>small</em> at this point. I´m willing to throw myself at every crumb of attention I get.”</p><p>“You´d be good company to the doves at the town square, then,” the other replied, with a low chuckle that made Once-ler´s stomach fill with butterflies. “How come you aren´t receiving any attention, though? Maybe you´re not marketing your work properly.”</p><p>“I don´t know, really. I like to think that the reason for it is that I´m some sort of musical genius and that my music is just too deep and avant-garde for people to understand…”</p><p>“Well, it´s good to have confidence.”</p><p>“…but I fear that the truth is that maybe I´m just- well, not good at what I´m doing. That maybe I should have had listened to my family and done something more useful with my life.”</p><p>“Your family doesn´t support your ambitions, I assume?”</p><p>“Not particularly.”</p><p>Pastor Greed got quiet for a moment, thinking.</p><p>“Say, do you believe?” he then questioned, making Once-ler turn his head in wonder.</p><p>“You mean, like, religiously?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>The gardener was taken aback by the sudden change in topic, replying with a shrug.</p><p>“Not really. No, I don´t think so, never did.”</p><p>“Isn´t that a little boring, though? Living like that, not believing in anything?”</p><p>“Well, it´s not that I don´t believe in <em>anything</em> at all. I believe that my rent´s due in three days. I believe in the bills on my kitchen table. I believe that my room needs some serious dusting and have some cobwebs removed from its corners… and that I´ll probably need to work overtime on Monday because I need food on my table.”</p><p>He smiled weakly, wondering whether the clergyman would be offended by what he had said, but instead he just leaned back on the bench casually, propping his head on his hand as he looked at Once-ler, amused.</p><p>“There, you do believe in a lot of things. Then why not believe in yourself, as well?”</p><p>The gardener blinked, looking a tad taken aback.</p><p>“That´s… a curious way to think.”</p><p>“Perhaps. I used to be unsure about myself a lot when I was a child. But then I thought about it and came to the conclusion that if I can believe in something as out there as an almighty God, I can believe in myself. I suppose it's different with you, but it´s the same concept. You can try and adapt it, maybe it will help.”</p><p>He shrugged and took a sip of his tea, watching as his gardener´s lips curved into a small, coy smile.</p><p>“Maybe it will.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Found a job. The apartment is small but fine, and the town is really nice. How are you guys doing?</em>
</p>
<p>Once-ler stared at the message he had sent his mother several weeks ago. The little checkmarks indicated that she had read it, but there was no reply. Again. Would she be more willing to talk to him if he were ever to make it big, he wondered?</p>
<p>He put the phone away, focusing instead on the sheet of music in front of him. He had managed to write and compose a single song. Something simple that was easy to listen and sing along to. It had been difficult to go through with it once he had started, his self-doubt eating away at him with every verse he wrote, but he had to do it, needed to. Being productive was the only thing that kept those thoughts at bay.</p>
<p>Thoughts of <em>him</em>.</p>
<p>Ever since their last conversation in the garden the yearning in the musician´s chest had grown, more and more until it had become unbearable. He craved the man´s company, craved the image of the black-clad figure surrounded by flowers, the smooth voice and small, knowing smile. Only being able to meet him once a week just wasn´t enough anymore. But what was he to do? How could he demand anything like that from the clergyman? He barely knew him. In fact, he didn´t know him at all. During all of those hours they had spent together in the small garden Mr. Greed had never, ever revealed anything about himself. He had been a silent listener, only ever talking to ask questions or make his humorous little remarks, but not once did he give the musician any sort of insight on his private life. What right, then, did Once-ler have to harbor these feelings for him? How could he pretend that this affection was anything other than superficial attraction? Oh, it was so very tiresome.</p>
<p>Maybe it was time to go. Pack his bags and start anew somewhere else, again. What point was there to stay if it was just going to torture him like that? He already had enough things he yearned for that he couldn´t have.</p>
<p>And he had wanted to leave, leave the town behind without saying a word to anyone, not that there were many people to say good-bye to. What little belongings he had had been packed into their respective bags and a ticket for the next best train on Monday booked. But he had decided to do one last show in the town square on Saturday, playing all of the songs he had not yet performed, including the one he´d recently written. And just as he´d been in the middle of it, softly singing out to the world, a silhouette had appeared before his narrowed eyes, throwing a 50$ bill inside his guitar case. He didn´t even need to look up. Those hands he´d recognize everywhere.</p>
<p>“These people weren´t exaggerating,” the soft voice had murmured, a strange gentleness in the deep green eyes.</p>
<p>“You really are quite the talented songbird.”</p>
<p>And before Once-ler knew it he was gone, disappearing into the crowd of people. He stood frozen in place, hands trembling, heart thumping like mad.</p>
<p>He did not take that train he had booked.</p>
<p>Instead, on Sunday morning, he found himself in front of the heavy wooden doors of the church. This time, it wasn´t empty. Most all of the seats were filled with people, many of them old and grey. Apart from a bored looking little girl who had been brought there by her parents he was the youngest person in the room.</p>
<p>He had no idea what he was hoping to get out of this, but it was too late for second thoughts, people behind him blocking the exit and pushing against his back. He gave in, meekly walking over to a free seat by one of the windows, leaning against the velvet cushion as he tried to fight off his tension. There was murmuring all around him, the churchgoers quietly talking amongst each other and turning the pages of their hymnbooks. It all felt so unreal. The musician had never participated in mass or any other such activities and knew nothing about them, had no idea what to expect. He didn´t belong and he knew it.</p>
<p>His gaze scanned the hall anxiously, and on the opposite side of it he spotted the old lady that had talked to him all those weeks ago. Their eyes met, she flashed him a kind smile, making him wonder whether she had recognized him.</p>
<p>It got quiet all of the sudden, the murmuring subsiding at once. Pastor Greed had appeared, approaching the altar with no haste. There was no trace of that curious look in his eyes nor the peculiar smile he always wore. All that was left was a vacant calmness, a stern gaze that watched over the crowd yet focused on nothing in particular. And when he finally spoke, greeting the audience, Once-ler found himself taken aback by how different he sounded. The playful melodiousness he had become used to had been replaced by an unwavering sternness in all of what he said. The musician found that there was a strange air of melancholy surrounding him, but no one of the attendees seemed to notice as they stood with their heads bowed, all beginning to sing.</p>
<p>Once-ler, not knowing any of the songs, just let the plethora of voices that echoed through the church wash over him, unable to look away from the man at the altar who quietly moved his lips to the melody, both desperately hoping and fearing that their gazes would meet, always squirming in his seat whenever it felt like the clergyman was about to look his way.</p>
<p>At some point the singing stopped, and Pastor Greed took a breath before raising his voice to speak again.</p>
<p>Once-ler listened to him preach, the soft yet powerful voice ringing right through him, shaking him to his core. He did not understand any of what the man was saying, did not know any of the verses or stories, but it was <em>how</em> he spoke that mesmerized him. The gentle, fluid movements of his arms that accompanied every sentence. The way the light from the stained glass behind him framed his head like a halo, giving him a seraphic appearance, as if he was nothing less than a saint himself. The musician thirsted after every word that rolled of his tongue, and he would have readily believed each and every one of them despite the fact that he cared not for any promises of afterlife. He didn´t know how long it took for their eyes to finally meet, but he inhaled sharply as it happened, his body trembling like in fever. Just for a split second he could see an expression of perturbation on the Pastor´s face, whatever he was about to say almost getting stuck in his throat, but he caught himself quickly, continuing in the same manner. However, throughout the rest of the mass the emerald greens would always turn back to the gardener, searching him out in the sea of stone-faced people.</p>
<p>By the end of it, everyone was called forth to receive the bread and wine. Once-ler´s legs, shaking like that of a newborn lamb´s carried him forward, and he stood among the other churchgoers, waiting for his turn, mind going hazy. He walked towards the altar, timidly looking up to the clergyman from beneath curvy lashes. Watched as Pastor Greed slipped out a wafer from the silver bowl and dunked it in red wine, then carefully put it into the musician´s already agape mouth. His fingers lingered in place for longer than they should, and Once-ler could feel them lightly stroking his bottom lip as the man retrieved his hand, whispering a blessing. And all those seemingly innocent motions contrasted greatly with what could only be described as boundless desire behind his unwavering gaze which looked longingly down onto the musician with an almost scandalous amount of pure need and sensuality, the way a thin layer of saliva glistened on his lip in the faint light after he subconsciously flicked his tongue over it- god, it was beautiful, yet it was torture all the same, and Once-ler couldn´t help but wonder whether the echo of his heavy, incessantly beating heart could be heard throughout the entire church hall as an unbearable heat overtook his body. But no one knew, no one took any notice of the young man who felt like he was dying over and over as he stood at the altar, light blue eyes filled with a desperate plea to be touched, loved, taken, conquered…</p>
<p>Someone pushed themselves in front of him, bringing the intense moment to an end at once. The gardener wasn´t sure what had happened afterwards, how he had made it home in his dazed state. But he found himself on his bed, trembling feverishly and breathing heavily. He gave a call to his workplace- leaving a message on the answering machine that he suddenly felt ill, that he wouldn´t be coming later- and spent the rest of the day flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn´t come to him at night, he tossed and turned, ridding himself of all his clothes and still feeling much too hot, beads of sweat rolling down his skin. The spot on his lips that the Pastor´s fingers had touched still tingled a little.</p>
<p>When it became too much, he got up, turning on the lights and grabbing his pen and notebook. He ferociously scribbled down words and verses, crossing some out, becoming dissatisfied and ripping the paper to shreds before starting anew. He wrote and composed for the rest of the night. When morning came and the rest of the town got ready for work, he set up his recording equipment. Guitar in hands he recorded the entire thing in one go, singing his lyrics in a raw, heartfelt voice- then put it up on his website, titling it <em>Serpent´s Touch</em>.</p>
<p>After one last glance at the finished project exhaustion finally overtook him, and he fell asleep before his head even touched his pillow.</p>
<p>Once-ler was awoken, many hours later, by an angry phone call from the restaurant he washed dishes at, demanding to know where he was at. He managed to mumble an apology, saying something about not feeling well, and they let him off with a warning.</p>
<p>The young man busied himself with cleaning up and grocery shopping the next couple days, trying to return to normalcy. Yet he knew that he would have to inevitably meet Mr. Greed again, and that meant confronting these feelings that had been haunting him for… how long has it been, really?</p>
<p>To distract himself from these dreadful thoughts he booted up his ancient laptop, clicking on his social media icon without much motivation. His mood quickly changed, however, when he was met with hundreds of notifications. He sat up straight, scrolling through them in disbelief. All of them were commenting on and sharing his recent song, giving overwhelmingly positive feedback. He couldn´t manage to read them all properly, his eyes jumping from one message to another, unable to process that what he was seeing was real.</p>
<p>
  <em>Dude, how come I´m only finding out about you now? This is fantastic!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>THAT GUY IS SO UNDERRATED</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Holy shit, I checked out all of your other stuff and it´s great, will you make more?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Can´t stop listening to this…</em>
</p>
<p>There were more, so many more, too much to possibly read in one go. Thousands of strangers all over the world that had found value in his creation, enough to profess their fascination with it and share it around for other´s to enjoy as well.</p>
<p>Once-ler clasped his hand over his mouth, unable to hold back a joyous noise as an indescribable warmth flooded his body, heart almost stopping in joy. Leaning back, he felt his eyes swelling with tears.</p>
<p>Maybe, after all, he wasn´t a failure. Wasn´t useless. And all of this had been worth something.  </p>
<p>                                                                               ---</p>
<p>While September had still been mildly warm, the first days of October had hit the small town with cold winds and steadily lowering temperatures. Summer bid its farewell, taking with it its clear blue skies and replacing them with thick, grey clouds. Slowly but surely the people began wearing their winter wardrobe, hiding from the biting wind behind many warm layers.</p>
<p>Once-ler was working in the garden, and the usual relaxation that came with the job wouldn´t settle this time. He was tense, lips pressed together in a line and brows furrowed. While his hands were busy with greenery his mind was circling around a message he had received the day before, one sent to his personal e-mail. He hadn´t thought of anything when he had opened it, but the familiar name of the sender had made him freeze up.</p>
<p>
  <em>Hey man, it´s me. You remember, right? We played in a band together. I´ve heard about your new song, and about how everyone and their mother is listening to it. People have discovered your stuff, and they love it. Listen, I know we fought a lot back in the days, and it sucks things ended badly. But I´m starting anew, and this time, it´ll be different, it´ll be real. I´m reviving the old band, and I´ve already gotten one of the guys from back then on board. We need a guitarist, as well as someone for background vocals, and you´d be perfect. Don´t let this pass up, this is our chance to finally get big. Also, I missed you.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>We´ll be waiting for you in Chicago.</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The musician, deep in thought a he was, accidentally cut off more than he was supposed to, swearing under his breath. Thankfully, it wasn´t really noticeable.</p>
<p>So, this was it. He had earned the recognition to be considered valuable enough to work with. Sure, he wasn´t being invited to share the stage with any big icons, but it was a start, a new beginning. He would move out of his pathetic apartment, he would go back to Chicago, rebuild the bridges he had burned with his old friends, and make a name for himself in the industry, finally. This is what he had wanted, right? Then where did that seed of doubt that kept growing everytime he thought about his future prospects come from? Why wasn´t he nearly as overjoyed as he should have been, and why was he even still here instead of packing his bags and booking the next train out of this town? Instead, the sheer notion of leaving filled him with a dreadful uncertainty and discomfort.</p>
<p>He had left places and people behind so many times now. What was it that made it so hard to turn his back on this town now?</p>
<p>“Good afternoon,” a voice behind him said, pulling him out of his thoughts. The gardener turned to face Mr. Greed standing at the garden gate. Something was different about him. He still wore his usual smile, but the mischievous little glint behind his eyes was gone, replaced instead with something that looked like deep thoughtfulness. He did not have any tea with him.</p>
<p>Once-ler greeted him back, shifting nervously from one leg to another. He was expecting for the man to inquire him about his appearance at the church last Sunday, or about his sudden “sickness” that had prevented him from going to work despite the fact that he had shown no signs of being ill earlier. But no such thing happened. Instead, the clergyman looked upwards, observing the autumn sky.</p>
<p>“It´s supposed to rain pretty heavily soon. You´ll definitely get drenched without a raincoat.”</p>
<p>“I´m done for today, anyway, so it´s fine,” Once-ler meekly replied, feeling bashful all of the sudden and lowering his gaze, “I guess I´ll get going now…”</p>
<p>“If you go now you´ll get caught in the rain,” the Pastor quickly retorted. As if to prove the man´s words right, a small, cold drop landed on Once-ler´s nose, and moments later the pitter-patter of rain filled the garden, getting louder with each second. The musician, only now noticing how cold it was, wrapped his arms around his body, shivering slightly.</p>
<p>“I´ll just walk home quickly and dry myself off. My apartment´s not that far away.”</p>
<p>“Still, you might get sick. You don´t even have a jacket. Wait it out at my place.”</p>
<p>The gardener felt blood rushing to his cheeks as he fumbled with his fingers nervously.</p>
<p>“I can´t- I mean, I don´t want to be a bother…”</p>
<p>“I don´t mind.”</p>
<p>Once-ler opened his mouth to politely decline again, but one look at Pastor Greed and the words dissipated on his tongue. He nodded shyly, watching as the other turned on his heel, gesturing for him to follow. He did.</p>
<p>                                                                                ---</p>
<p>Mr. Greed, as it turned out, lived in a rectory behind the church. It was an old building made out of grey bricks, with dust covered windows surrounded by white frames and some ivy climbing up the smooth walls.  It was surrounded by beech trees and a lush lawn, a narrow dirt path leading to the front door. They made it fairly in time, the rain starting to pour down with all its strength minutes after the clergyman had closed the door behind them.</p>
<p>Once inside Once-ler did not get to see much of the interior as the other walked fairly quickly, leading him upstairs into a relatively sizeable room. The second he stepped inside the gardener was overwhelmed by the amount colors and objects surrounding him. He had expected the other´s room to be a plain, modest space, decorated with only religious paraphernalia at best, but this was anything but. There were large wooden shelves and glass cabinets everywhere, filled with trinkets of all kinds. Several fancy tea sets, porcelain figurines, ancient looking books, some of them in foreign languages. Caskets of different sizes, oil paintings in mahogany frames hanging from the walls. A whole collection of vintage vinyl records by artists long forgotten. The large taxidermized head of a deer hung on the wall between the window and a grandfather clock; colorful jewelry hung from its antlers. It was all rather chaotic, but it was a comfortable kind of chaos that made Once-ler feel strangely at home.</p>
<p>Mr. Greed asked the musician to sit at a coffee table in the center at the room while he walked over to an ancient, dusty gramophone, placing one of the records onto it. A gentle singing accompanied by jazzy instrumentals resonated in the room while the Pastor let water boil in a teapot, retrieving two cups from one of the many cupboards on the wall. When the tea was done, he placed one of them in front of Once-ler without asking. The gardener didn´t object, accepting it gladly. Sweet hibiscus aroma filled his nostrils.</p>
<p>“A little too much?” the clergyman asked the other as he sat opposite of him, noticing him curiously take in his surroundings.</p>
<p>“Kind of, but I like it. You have quite the collection.”</p>
<p>“That´s true. I enjoy collecting things. All that is rare, uncommon, valuable,” he glanced at Once-ler with curved lips, “and pretty.”</p>
<p>The gardener´s face flushed at those words, and he hid it behind his cup, taking a small sip. Rain tapped against the window as they drank in silence. Sometime soon the Pastor put down his half empty cup to open a black wooden box on the table. Once-ler watched in astonishment as he took out a cigar, lighting it with a match after placing it between his lips. He pushed the box towards his employee afterwards.</p>
<p>“You´re welcome to take one, if you want. They´re very good.”</p>
<p>Once-ler shook his head.</p>
<p>“No, thanks. I don´t smoke. But- are you even allowed to do this? I mean, with your occupation and all…Isn´t it forbidden?”</p>
<p>“That´s just one of the many things the faithful can´t universally agree upon,” the other replied with a soft laugh. “My father was quite the smoker, as well. He would always try to hide it from me, and whenever I caught him doing it, he´d tell me that it´s a terrible habit, one I should never pick up. And he would swear that this would be his last cigar ever, that he would never touch one again, so help him god. But he could never keep his hands off the tobacco for long. He liked to drink, too. Never excessively, but he did enjoy a good bottle of wine now and then, despite claiming that he did not ever touch alcohol outside of mass.”</p>
<p>Once-ler watched Mr. Greed lean back and take another drag in enjoyment, smoke filling the air around them.</p>
<p>“He wasn´t a bad man, not at all, but neither was he a virtuous one. However, he could make the people <em>believe</em> that he was, and they never doubted him for even a second. I am very much the same.”</p>
<p>“Do you even believe in any of the things you preach yourself?” the gardener quietly asked, astonishment visible on his face.</p>
<p>“Not half as much as I should for this job.”</p>
<p>“Then why did you choose to do it?”</p>
<p>The Pastor didn´t reply for a while, eyes fixated on the spinning record as a strangely vacant, melancholic expression grew on his face. He drank the rest of his now cooled tea before answering, voice low and thoughtful.</p>
<p>“I wasn´t my father´s biological son. My real parents died in an accident when I was barely a year old, and he took me in because he was a close friend of theirs. He never made a secret out of it, told me from the very beginning that we weren´t related by blood. I wouldn´t say that he didn´t love me, but there was always a certain kind of distance between us. Even as a child I understood that the only reason for my well-being was the goodness of his heart alone. He did not have to feed me, clothe me, educate me. But he did. And I felt like I had to repay him for it. So, I never even thought of ever becoming anything other than his successor, just as he wanted me to be. It was a matter of duty for me.”</p>
<p>The music came to an end and the clergyman got up to change the record, putting on a collection of classical pieces this time while Once-ler stared into his cup, at the small leaves swimming at the bottom. “But does that not make you unhappy? Doing all of this not because you want to, but because you feel like you have to? Having to hide who you really are? Wouldn´t you rather be doing something else?” The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them, and he wondered whether that question had been too personal. Then again, they had already come this far.</p>
<p>“I believe,” the clergyman replied, “that all of us have some kind of role in life. For me, it is to be a Pastor. The people here hold me up as a good example. They see a god-fearing, righteous man devoted to faith, someone who can keep them on the right path. They listen to my preaching and it makes them happy, gives them inner peace. Remember what I told you back then in the garden? That most, if not all, people need something beautiful in their lives? My situation is quite similar. A lot of people need someone they can point at, look up to and say: ‘This is a good man. A trustworthy one. How wonderful that men like these still exist.’ That´s the role I have. What does it matter if it´s fake, if I don´t practice what I preach myself? I show them what they want to see, tell them what they want to hear, and everything else I keep behind closed doors, for what they don´t know won´t hurt them. As for whether I´d rather do something else… who knows, maybe someday. But as of now, I am content with my life as is.”</p>
<p>Greed enjoyed what little was left of the cigar before putting it out in the nearest ashtray and turning around to face his guest.</p>
<p>“What about you,” he inquired, “you told me you never stay in one place for too long. Are you happy with things the way they are now? Or do you wish to be someplace else again?”</p>
<p>The question caught Once-ler off guard, and he suddenly became very interested on the intricate rose-pattern on his teacup, trying to overcome his tension. Eventually, after taking a small breath, he got up and took a few daring steps towards the Pastor.</p>
<p>“I had planned to leave. I had my ticket booked and my bags packed. Wanted to catch the train on Monday,” he murmured, finally meeting the other´s eyes.</p>
<p>“Why didn´t you?”</p>
<p>The musician remained silent, feeling his blood heat up and rush towards his face again. They were so, so very close now, he could feel the Pastor´s warm breath ghost over his skin, smelling sweetly of tea and smoke. A strand of the man´s hair had fallen unrulily into his face again, and Once-ler felt the strong urge to gently tuck it behind his ear.</p>
<p>He gazed yearningly into those captivating eyes, still unable to speak. But he didn´t need to, because Greed understood.</p>
<p>He lifted his hand, resting it against the gardener´s cheek, who felt a shiver go through his body at the sudden contact. Warm and soft, the hand caressed his skin, then traced his jawline with its middle finger before taking hold of his chin, making him lift his head a little. Greed gave him a tender, meaningful look, taking in every little detail of his face as if he wanted to ingrain it in his memory forever. And just a moment later he overcame what little distance there was between them and brought their lips together.</p>
<p>Once-ler felt as if all of his weight had left his body. His mind screamed all sorts of things which he couldn´t process and his legs went soft, almost giving out underneath him. The wall of isolation and self-restraint he had built over the years crumbled apart in an instant under the pretty mouth. The second he regained a sense of control over he threw all caution aside, grabbed the fabric of the other´s garb and pulled him close, returning the kiss with desperate passion. The clergyman hummed, satisfied by his gardener´s eagerness, snaking one hand around his waist while the other found its way into his hair, twirling the dark strands around his fingers. Greed let his teeth graze over the plush bottom lip, tip of his tongue flicking against it, asking for entrance that the other was more than willing to provide. Once-ler whimpered softly, pushing back against the hot wetness that curiously explored the inside of his mouth, dancing across the roof and his teeth before traveling further down his throat. It tasted faintly of tobacco.</p>
<p>The musician shut his eyes, abandoning all caution. He allowed the other to take control, melting into his arms. Greed sucked playfully on his tongue before pulling away to take a breath, staring at the flushed face before him with narrowed, darkening eyes.</p>
<p>“You looked at me the same way back at the altar. It made me lose my mind there for a moment, songbird.”</p>
<p>He moved his mouth back onto Once-ler´s, far more fiercely and messier this time, taking the young man´s breath away. His knee was suddenly placed between the legs of the musician, who gasped at the contact, pressing against it needily. The air in the room suddenly felt thick, and his clothes much tighter and heavier than they really were. He felt the Pastor´s hands creeping along his body, just as they had so often in his dreams. Neck, shoulders, chest and hips were all mapped by the slender fingers, nails scratching at his skin through the fabric.</p>
<p>“I so desperately wanted to do this to you then and there. Make you mine before the eyes of the Lord himself,” Greed purred deeply against his lips, in a way that made shivers go down his spine. “Your pretty face had almost cost me my reputation.”</p>
<p>One of the hands traveled lower, all the way down to the waistband of Once-ler´s pants. The musician bit his lip, stifling a moan as he felt the other´s palm rub at his painfully throbbing member. He bucked his hips into the touch, seeking friction desperately.</p>
<p>Greed watched with an adoring fascination the way his gardener rutted against his hand, already panting hotly just from what little pleasure it provided him, the outline of the erect length clearly visible through his tight jeans. The Pastor undid the button on those and descended downward onto his knees, pulling the man´s trousers and boxers along as he went, exposing his heated flesh to the cool air.</p>
<p>In pure fascination Once-ler watched the beautiful creature wrap his fingers around it, and clasped his hand in front of his mouth as he felt that talented tongue glide along its underside. Greed teased him, making a spectacle out of it, sucking at the sides, letting his teeth graze over the tip lightly before licking the slit, twirling his tongue around it expertly, with an expression in his eyes that would have made even the most righteous man weak.</p>
<p>“You´re- This isn´t the first time you´re doing this, is it?” Once-ler gasped, feeling the clergyman´s hand starting to pump his member firmly. The Pastor lifted his head to reply, string of saliva connecting his lips to the tip.</p>
<p>“You wouldn´t be calling me licentious, would you?” he questioned with a lascivious smirk, licking off a bit of already leaking pre cum.</p>
<p>“God, no, of course not, I´m just- <em>fuck-</em>”</p>
<p>Whatever the gardener had wanted to say had slipped out of his mind when Greed´s mouth enveloped his manhood fully, taking it in all the way to the base at once. A loud, surprised moan sounded from Once-ler´s throat, his head lolling to the side and fingers grasping onto the other man´s hair. Greed groaned deeply at that, moving his head back and forth with no trouble at all, his tongue circling around the length in his mouth. The musician couldn´t help but buck deeper into the tight cavern, panting and moaning helplessly.</p>
<p>Being touched like that after such a long time of being alone was an absolutely indescribable feeling, and he could barely force himself to stand upright, legs almost giving out. He leaned backwards, back coming to touch the cold wall behind him. With glazed eyes Once-ler watched Greed move and suck loudly with hollowed out cheeks, lewd, sloppy noises sounding through the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once-ler bent over slighty, mouth hanging agape as the Pastor's tongue played with his slit before moving to the underside again, sliding against the length each time he bobbed his head. Drool was running down his lips and chin, staining some of his garb and the carpet below. The image was so perfectly indecent and beautifully sinful, and looking at it the musician knew that he wasn't going to last much longer. He bit his lip, face twisted in pleasure as he began to thrust inside the tight cavern, the other's throat constricting around him. He was close, so damn close, the sweet tension in his loins building up for release.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But suddenly, it stopped, cutting off just moments before climax. He whimpered weakly, shaking all over, looking at the clergyman with confused, desperate eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Mhn... why? Please-" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Said man got up from the floor, wiping his mouth on his sleeve nonchalantly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Why stop at this," he purred hoarsely, "when we could give each other something even better?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Once-ler knew it, he was half carried, half pushed onto a comfortably large bed and pinned down by the other. Greed busied himself with unbuttoning his gardener´s white shirt, exposing the skin beneath like a long-awaited present. He rid him of his jeans and boxers completely, throwing them somewhere to the floor- and stared, transfixed, at the sight before him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The gardener felt endlessly vulnerable under that gaze, but it didn´t make him uncomfortable, didn´t make him wish to hide away. The Pastor looked mesmerized with what he was seeing, a look of adoration on his face as his hands roamed over the lithe body with feathery touches. It was as if he was regarding him like a piece of art- and Once-ler couldn´t remember when, or if at all, anyone has ever looked at him like this. It sent his pulse into overdrive, rose-colored blush spreading from his face to his neck, shoulders and chest, and he arched into the touch subconsciously silently asking for more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The clergyman provided gladly, leaning downwards to spread kisses on the musician´s face, jaw and neck. Once-ler gasped as said kisses slowly got more heated, teeth and tongue coming in as well, sucking and biting at all of his sensitive places and licking at the resulting bitemarks. He mewled softly when the other reached his collarbones- and moaned unrestrainedly at the feeling of the man´s lips closing around one of his nipples, rolling his tongue around the pink bud while teasing the other between his fingers.</p>
<p>Once-ler felt as if reality slipped away from him. The smell of smoke and freshly brewed tea, the sound of the spinning record, the Pastor´s soft breathing and the rain dribbling against the window, the hot touches and his own small moans; all of it melted into one, his mind dissolving somewhere along the line. All the while Greed traveled further, his lips caressing the flat stomach, bony hips and soft thighs. At one point, the man´s fingers began working on the buttons of his own black soutane, and Once-ler could only stare breathlessly at the heavy garment falling from his shoulders, allowing the slim, lean body to come into view. He reached out, trembling fingertips gliding over the pale chest, side of the other´s neck and cheek, and Greed took him by the wrist, kissing the back of his hand with a gentle smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For a moment he turned around, opening a drawer of his nightstand. He took out a bottle of massage oil and was about to open it, but stopped to give the musician one last questioning look, ensuring that he was really as willing as he appeared to be. Once-ler responded by opening his legs, pleading impatience clear on his face, which was all the Pastor needed.  He coated his fingers in the liquid before aligning them with the other´s entrance, circling around it a little before pushing in, slow and careful. The musician´s body tensed up right away; it´s been quite the while since he had performed such acts with anyone, so the feeling seemed strange and unfamiliar. He closed his eyes tried to relax as best as best as he could, though, the other´s gentleness making it easier to do so. I took a short while, and the discomfort was replaced with a pleasant sensation that made him buck his hips into the touch. He felt Greed add another digit, then one more- and then he curled his fingers in just the right way, touching the sweet spot that made the musician see stars and moan in delight. The Pastor, smirking, repeated the motion, again and again, watching the way the other squirmed and curved his spine, holding tight onto the sheets beneath. Greed paid some attention to the other´s thighs again, sucking and nipping along their inner sides, leaving faint scratchmarks with his nails.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So pretty,” he murmured lowly, nuzzling his face into the perfect legs, his soft black hair and warm breath tickling the gardener´s skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once-ler could barely take it anymore; the way the Pastor stimulated all of his weak spots so easily, as if he had known his body since forever, knowing just where to touch to make it feel as if sparks were shooting through his body, being at his mercy like that, it was all too much, too much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please,” he whimpered, barely able to even speak.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Pastor looked up to him, leaving one more mark on his left inner thigh before responding.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, dear? What is it you want?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was still moving his fingers inside him, stroking his hot spot teasingly, making it incredibly difficult to string words together. Once-ler whined and panted, biting his lip to bring himself to focus. With his eyes half-lidded and lustful he looked at the other, mouthing breathlessly:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please- <em>Father</em>, fuck me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The clergyman´s expression darkened as he licked his lips dangerously, akin to a hungry beast. From the same drawer on his nightstand he retrieved a condom, ripping off the package and throwing it to the side carelessly before slipping it on and slickening his manhood up with a fair amount of the massage oil. Once-ler watched him position himself, the toned body pressing against his own so wonderfully close. And in a husky voice, Greed whispered into his ear:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am going to mess you up, little songbird. I´ll make sure that you remember me always, no matter where you go. You will never forget the taste of me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The musician threw his head back as he felt Greed enter him, and despite all the preparation it took him a while to get accustomed to the sensation. Hissing in pleasure, Greed set the pace, visibly trying his hardest to remain careful and to not just fuck the blue-eyed male into the mattress right away. He thrusted in deep, always pulling out almost entirely before slamming back inside. As the tight walls around him gave in a little, his movements became somewhat faster and rougher, and Once-ler cried out, wrapping his arms around the Pastor´s back, his nails clawing at the skin between his shoulder blades. Still, Greed drew each of the thrusts out, enjoying each moment like a sip of fine wine. Every now and then he would get the perfect angle, causing the gardener to roll back his eyes and release unhinged screams.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once-ler´s legs locked around the other´s hips by themselves, pulling the man as close as possible. Greed looked mesmerizingly stunning, his hair a mess, his usual calm expression dropped completely and replaced with a look of pure ecstasy as he indulged in his pleasure. The musician brought their lips together, whispering into the kiss: “For how long have you wanted me like this?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Since the day you first stepped into my church,” the clergyman growled, making Once-ler gasp loudly as he licked over his Adam´s apple and left another trail of colorful lovemarks on his neck. “I´ve grown so fond of watching you work at the garden, sweet thing. But it was when I heard you sing that I knew I had to make you mine. That I needed your pretty voice to call out for me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Saying that, he held onto the Once-ler´s legs, spreading them further and positioning himself at a different angle, one that allowed him to hit the male´s sweet spot perfectly each time. He pounded inside, alternating between rough and more gentle movements, always bringing the other close, but never quite enough for the release he so badly desired. Both of them were a mess at this point, panting and sweating, bodies entangled. The Pastor attacked the other´s lips with his own again and again until they were bruised and cherry red. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It´s the same for you, though, isn´t it?" Greed asked huskily, grabbing the other by his hair to force eye contact. "You´ve wanted this since the very beginning. You enjoyed it, the way I always looked at you. You blush quite easily and chew your lip whenever you´re flustered, by the way. It´s quite cute, made me want to tease you even more. How indecent of you, making a man of God feel that way."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once-ler shook his hips in the same rhythm as the other´s thrusts, the other´s words almost being enough to tip him over the edge. "It is," he breathlessly moaned, "but aren´t you just as bad for letting someone like me lead you astray this easily?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It is only natural to desire the beautiful."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Whatever reply the musician could muster at this moment was muted by the sly tongue sliding into his mouth again, and he gladly let it happen. Greed was fully unrestrained at this point, his patience clearly running out. Once-ler could barely hear him mouth something against his his neck, the whisperings being drowned out by his own muffled cries and the squeaking of the bed. He had turned the man´s back into a battlefield, adorned it with deep, red streaks. All it took was for the Pastor other to place a hand on Once-ler´s member, pumping it firmly as he delivered a few last powerful strokes- and the blue-eyed male came undone onto both their stomachs, arching his back as a last, drawn out scream left his mouth. His vision whited out for a few moments, his muscles all tensed up, walls tightening around Greed once more. He felt the other shudder and groan deeply as he came seconds later, riding out his climax until there was nothing left to give.</p>
<p>When Once-ler returned to his senses, mouth still agape and barely breathing, the clergyman was next to him, lying on his side with his head resting on his upper arm. They stared at each other in silence, drunk on the bliss of afterglow. The rush was slowly dying down, and with that the feeling of bashfulness came back, causing the musician to nervously cover himself with the thin sheet. Yet he was still starving for contact, the feeling of the other's skin against his, and the warmth that coming from the softly breathing body next to him was so very inviting. Carefully, Once-ler scooted closer- unsure what the clergyman´s reaction would be. His worries dissipated when he felt Greed wrap an arm around his waist and lightly bury his face in his hair. He allowed himself to relax into the touch, to be vulnerable just this once. Minutes passed by as the rain outside fell without stopping, thunder sounding somewhere in the distance, and the musician´s eyes fell shut, mind drifting off into a dreamless sleep.</p>
<p>                                                                                                                                                                            ---</p>
<p>When Once-ler awoke, the first thing he felt was Greed´s warm breath on his neck and the man´s fingertips dancing softly across his skin, tracing invisible patterns on his chest. The setting sun´s light shone faintly through the halfway-closed curtains. The record was no longer spinning and the rain had stopped. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And, thick like smoke, the question of “what now?” lingered in the air.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once-ler closed his eyes, sighing shakily as the green-eyed man leaned down to kiss his forehead, his nose, the corner of his mouth. He absorbed every little bit of affection he got, not wanting the moment to end, not wanting to face reality, but he knew that there was use in trying to try and delay the inevitable. The moment the Pastor´s lips were no longer melting into his he turned around, facing the wall on the opposite side of the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was offered a place in a band. In Chicago.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He could feel the other´s body get tense up, his caresses coming to a stop. And yet, the man´s voice didn´t betray him, sounding as calm as ever.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you going?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don´t know. I don´t know if I should.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Against his better judgement, Once-ler hoped that the other would ask him to stay. For Greed to tell him that it wouldn´t be fair of him to leave, that it would be inconvenient if he were to make him look for a new gardener again. That all of their little conversations, the mutual connection they´ve felt, this afternoon they´ve spent together had meant something, something that was worth holding on to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You should go. There´s a train that goes in that direction everyday, save Sunday.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once-ler nodded with a blank expression, feeling dull and terribly worn out all of the sudden. The richly decorated room that had felt so homely and comfortable to him before now seemed cold, and the arms wrapped around his waist felt like a stranger´s. But wasn´t that what they were? Strangers? What in the world had he thought would happen? What had he expected?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He reached for his clothes on the floor, lethargically putting on his shirt and slipping into his underwear. Time to go. It was nice while it lasted. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It would be a shame if you wouldn´t. This is your opportunity to get where you want in life. I told you about my beliefs, right? That everyone has a role to fulfill? I´m convinced that yours is to inspire people with your music. A voice like that shouldn´t be hidden in obscurity.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once-ler turned around to face Greed. The man returned his gaze, lips curved into his usual smile. It was, however, tainted by a hidden melancholy behind his eyes. Though maybe that was just the musician´s wishful thinking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They got dressed, went downstairs. Pastor Greed led Once-ler to the front door, wished him a pleasant journey and all the best for his artistic endeavors. Even after saying their good-byes, the musician awkwardly remained at the doorstep. He took a deep breath of the cool autumn air, wanting to say something meaningful, but couldn´t think of anything other than a whispered “thank you”, unable to even look Greed in the face. It felt strangely painful to do so. As he finally walked off, he could feel the other´s eyes following him until he was out of sight. But he didn´t dare to turn around, fearing that they might captivate him all over again, keep him bound to this place that he was already so reluctantly leaving. </p>
<p>                                                                                                                    </p>
<p>He remained awake all night, packing everything up, and returned his apartment key to the landlord in the morning before hastily walking down to the train station. His body felt heavy as he waited for his train, and even heavier when he watched the small town pass by the window until it was all out of sight, now nothing more than another memory.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Ugh, I can´t see like that!”</p><p> </p><p>A short young woman pulled at her boyfriend´s jacket, frustrated, trying to get his attention. She stood on her tippy toes, trying to get a better view of what was in front of her, but the tall crowd made it impossible. Her date, with ease, pulled her onto his back, allowing her to finally take a look at what interested her so.</p><p> </p><p>Pastor Greed watched the scene with little interest before turning his attention back to the stage everyone was watching.</p><p> </p><p>A music festival was taking place. Well “festival” was maybe too strong of a word, considering that it wasn´t that that big of an event, but for a place as small and unknown as this town it <em>was</em> pretty impressive. A relatively sizeable stage has been built under the open sky, illuminated by bright lights. Tickets have been sold, and now most of the town has come together to see what it was all about. Not only that, people from other places had made their way here, too. A lot of overly-excited young folks. From what the Pastor had heard many the ones playing were promising newcomers, those who have managed to get a decent following over a short time. He had no idea why anyone would host an event like that in this place, let alone in the middle of cold February, but he had decided not to dwell on it too long.</p><p> </p><p>To be fair, he did not know why he had even decided to go to this concert, to begin with. It wasn´t something he was usually interested in, and being trapped in a sea of pushing, shoving people was not his definition of a good time. Maybe it was the need for something new in his life, something to break out of his routine, at least for one night. He´d been feeling awfully restless lately, and needed a distraction.</p><p> </p><p>One band played, then another one, and then some more. It didn´t impress him much, if anything, all the noise was starting to get on his nerves, made him crave his comfortable armchair and a cup of warm tea in silence. And just when he thought that he really could not handle one more group of young twenty somethings jumping around the stage and hoarsely screaming profanities to the melody of their guitars a short ten-minute break set in. The Pastor pondered whether there was a point in staying since he clearly wasn´t enjoying himself, and decided that he would leave should he dislike the next group just as much as the rest.</p><p> </p><p>The break was over soon, and as the crowds chattering ceased as a single man with a guitar appeared on stage. Or rather, he almost fell face first onto it, stumbling over his own feet. He didn´t let this discourage him, however, taking his position by the microphone to quickly introduce himself, thanking everyone for giving him the opportunity to play that night. Pastor Greed had been busy picking some dust from his coat when he heard the all too familiar voice, and his head immediately shot up. His former gardener stood under the spotlight, dressed in a somewhat formal outfit with a grey vest, though his beloved, worn fedora was still placed proudly upon his head. He squared his shoulders and straightened his back, looking nervous yet determined. Then, his fingers began to strum softly at the instrument´s strings, the sound of his voice filling the air and going right through the clergyman´s heart, making him stare in wondrous bewilderment. The corner of his lips tugged into a genuine smile, the tension he had felt before disappearing at once. Carefully he pushed through the crowd, ignoring all the nasty glares he received as he tried to get even closer to the stage than he already was, close enough to appreciate the way the artificial lights danced on the guitarist´s hair, the way he grew more and more bold and began swaying and dancing a little along to the music, moving those long legs smoothly. With each song the Pastor could feel something bloom in his chest, a comfortable warmth that persisted despite the harsh winter wind.</p><p> </p><p>As the singer paused to catch a breath between songs, his baby blues traveled over the crowd an suddenly got stuck on the clergyman, lighting up in recognition. Pastor Greed shot him a bright, slightly cheeky smirk- watching the other´s astonished expression change, his eyes narrowing in joy and agape mouth forming a shy smile.</p><p> </p><p>“This one´s the last for tonight,” Once-ler spoke into the microphone, not taking his gaze off of the Pastor. “It´s everyone´s favorite, and it´s about yearning. You know what it´s called!”</p><p> </p><p>The crowd yelled happily, encouraging the musician with loud chants, who happily went all out on his last performance, putting all of the energy he had left into it, jumping up and down until he was out of breath. At the end of it all, seconds after the last note had been played, a loud cheer erupted from the audience, whistling and clapping in between. Once-ler took his hat off and gave the people a little bow.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” he said earnestly, “thank you all.”</p><p> </p><p>As the singer walked off with the crowd´s applause in his back he gave Greed another look, making a hasty gesture toowards a spot away from the stage and people. The clergyman got going right away, navigating through the many bodies surrounding him with much less care this time, not even taking notice of the insults thrown after him when he accidentally stepped on someone´s feet. When he finally managed to escape the flock, he looked around frantically searching for the familiar face in the dim light. He made a turn- and came to a halt when someone almost bumped into him. The Pastor´s face softened, a low chuckle sounding from his throat as he recognized the person as his former gardener.</p><p> </p><p>The blue-eyed male was all red in the face, his hair standing up at all possible angles, his hat sitting lopsided. Guitar pressed close against his chest. He looked different. He still had that coy, reserved demeanor about him, but now, he also seemed… surer of himself. Confident. He had grown. Greed found that he looked positively gorgeous.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello,” the clergyman murmured, locking his eyes with the other´s.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a short silence, neither being sure of what to say. Smiling, the Pastor took hold of the brim of the other´s fedora, adjusting it properly.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, you look just like someone I met once. He was also quite the singer. Left for the big city, to join a band.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm. I think I might know that guy,” Once-ler replied, leaning closer to Greed. “He decided to drop out of that band and leave the city shortly after.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really? And why is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“He came to the conclusion that he was better off as a solo artist. And- well, there was someone he missed, very much.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see. Should you ever meet him, be so kind and tell him that there´s a certain preacher who would love to see him again.”</p><p> </p><p>Greed gently rested his forehead against the other´s, breathing in his scent and stroking his soft cheek with his thumb as he brought their lips together for a light, chaste kiss. Somewhere behind them the next band introduced themselves and began playing, the people cheered again, they whistled and laughed and yelled, but Greed barely even noticed. Grinning, he added:</p><p> </p><p>“Said preacher also really needs a gardener again. Tell him that, too.”</p><p> </p><p>Once-ler laughed, warmly and sweet, his arms wrapping around the clergyman´s shoulders and face buried in the crook of his neck.</p><p> </p><p>The very same night Greed sat on his bed in the dimly lit room of his rectory, listening to orchestra recordings and sipping his tea as he always did. Curled up next to him, Once-ler slept peacefully, hair spread messily on the pillow and clothes thrown onto the floor without a care. And as the Pastor gazed at his songbird´s resting form, watching his chest rise and fall with every soft breath he took, he began to think that maybe heavenly blessings really did exist, and that they came in the form of tall, lovable guitarists with ridiculous names. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Everyone, thank you for reading, kudoing and commenting &lt;3<br/>I hope you had as much fun with this little idea as I did. <br/>Until next time!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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